Harriet had to tell me about this world. I needed her to explain things to help me survive. But as time went on, I became more curious. I wanted to know about the woman who saved me. I learned a few things about Harriet. First, she is brilliant. There wasn’t a single thing I asked Harriet that she couldn’t explain. Second, she was very observant. Before I could say something, she would already be watching me. Harriet takes time to listen and observe before speaking. She always seems to let others speak first before giving her thoughts.

The final thing I learned about Harriet was that she talks more than most. She tends to try to justify what she is saying, almost as if she has prepared herself for you to disagree with her. I finally asked her about the feeling I got—that she was always ready to defend herself—and she said it was simply a survival mechanism of growing up as a Black woman. It was something I had experienced too, in a way. I had to be careful about everything I said as the eldest daughter of the royal family. My father had clear ideas about what was expected of me, which never seemed to align with what I wanted to do. It was so frustrating having to constantly defend my wishes to do things like sword fighting. I felt like I was always walking on eggshells. Harriet had experienced the same. She felt like people expected her to behave and act a certain way, and when she didn’t, she felt like she had to defend herself.

I also learned that Harriet lives in Inglewood in an apartment with a roommate. She and her roommate met online. She was looking for a place to live that was closer to the shelter. She had grown up in Compton with her parents and her older brother. I began to ask more about Harriet’s family. I was curious. Growing up, I had only known other royal or noble families. With no nobility in Los Angeles, I was curious to see how Harriet grew up. I asked Harriet about her family, and she told me that her parents both worked jobs when she was growing up. Her mother was a teacher, and her father was a truck driver. Harriet said her family had been lucky because they never needed to worry about food from week to week. There was relative stability for her family. She told me that her father and mother eventually got a divorce, and so she and her brother remained in the house with her mother while her father moved out. But he stayed close so that he could see the kids on days that he wasn’t driving. He also switched to being a driver for Amazon when he got older, and he was around much more. Harriet spoke about her family with pride. She explained that her older brother, Martin, loved playing basketball. He was very good at it. He got into college at Cal State Fullerton and graduated with a degree in Business Management.

After a few weeks of adventuring with Harriet, she invited me to a barbecue at her family home. She explained to me that it was in Compton. She paused when she said that. I reminded her that I didn’t know anything about Los Angeles. Harriet cleared her throat and said, “People tend to think that Compton is ghetto. Or where gangsters live. And for parts of Compton, that’s true. I just want you to keep an open mind.” I nodded. I tried to imagine the kind of place Harriet was describing. But I think Harriet is amazing, so it couldn’t be that bad. We drove the 30 minutes it took to get from the shelter to her family’s house. Harriet didn’t talk much. I was starting to feel nervous about meeting her family. I kept thinking back to all the training I had growing up on how to properly greet visitors. But I didn’t think any of that would be beneficial in this scenario.

We got to Harriet’s family home, and her mom was instantly outside, ready to greet us. Harriet ran up and gave her mom a hug. It was clear the two were very close, much closer than I’d ever been with my own mom. I felt a pang of jealousy. As I got out of the car, waiting for them to finish greeting each other, Harriet introduced me to her mom, who came over and gave me a giant hug. I wasn’t expecting it. It was the first hug I’d gotten from someone in this world, and it almost made me cry. I had to steady myself. For the first time, I felt truly welcome.

Harriet and her mom went into the kitchen to get some food ready for the barbecue. They spoke so fast and were laughing so hard. I offered to help, but they told me the guest doesn’t want to help. So I began to walk around their house. I found pictures of her family from various stages. I saw pictures of Harriet and her brother graduating from high school and college. Their family in the pictures seemed perfect. I again felt a pang of jealousy. It was obvious that Harriet had been given just as many opportunities to reach her goals as her brother. It was so different from my own brother’s and my relationship—one where we were pitted against each other, where he was given everything and I was given nothing. As I looked at pictures, Harriet’s mom walked in. A smile spread across her face. “Not what you were expecting?” I turned to her and said, “Your home is so nice.” Her mom’s smile grew bigger when I said that. Just as I was about to offer my help again, someone came through the door.

In walked a taller version of the boy who was in so many pictures. He was a man now. Harriet’s mom squealed and said, “My baby,” as she ran over to greet her son. Harriet’s brother was then showered in greetings just as his sister had been. Finally, when it was done, he put out his hand and said, “What’s good? I’m Martin. And you are?” Almost completely unprompted, I did a curtsy. I couldn’t help myself. It was so deeply ingrained in me. I then quickly stood up again and reached my hand out to grab his. “I’m Olivia.” Harriet’s mom chimed in, “She’s a friend of Harri’s.” I nodded at that proper description of who I was.

Eventually, Harriet’s father walked in. He had brought some beers with him. He waved and said hello very briefly before heading into the kitchen. We eventually had barbecue food. The barbecue was a feast: smoky ribs, grilled corn, and collard greens that melted in my mouth. There were baked beans, potato salad, and something called cornbread—sweet and warm, unlike anything I’d tasted before. Besides Harriet’s parents, two aunties showed up as well, with their kids, and another family friend from their neighborhood. I was introduced to everyone as Harriet’s friend. It was such a nice title. I felt like a permanent member of this world. People asked me questions about myself. I tried to mix the truth with some changes that would make sense to them. I am not from around here. I grew up with two siblings. I went to school. I work at a restaurant. Things that I could tell the truth about.

After the meal, I insisted on cleaning up the dishes. Years working in a restaurant had made me an expert. Martin joined me, and together we worked at the sink. Unlike Harriet, who filled silence with stories and explanations, Martin was quiet, answering my questions simply, politely. He told me about his job at a company in Long Beach. He was playful too: while rinsing a plate, he flicked water at people passing through the kitchen, and at one point, blew bubbles across the sink at me, grinning. His mother came in, handed him a towel, and told him to clean up his mess. He did, no protest, just a sheepish smile. He adored her.

A few minutes later, a familiar face walked in. It was Mateo. I stopped in my tracks. My two worlds were colliding. What is Mateo from work doing here? He greeted Martin, and the two did a special handshake. I watched them interact with curiosity. How do they know each other? My cheeks started to get warm. I needed to step outside for a minute. I stepped outside and saw Harriet there. I asked her how long Mateo and Martin have known each other. She smiled at me and said they have been friends since high school. Mateo used to live out in Compton with his family growing up. Harriet then explained that she had heard about the job opening from Mateo. Harriet had told him all about how this was my first job in Los Angeles, and he offered to look out for me. I suddenly understood why Mateo had been instantly nice to me. He was doing it because Harriet had asked him.